We Don't Know When to Quit
by DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: The plan was to rescue Captain America and get the hell out of there. The plan did not involve an over-abundance of AIM scientists and said Captain America getting shot in the process. (James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov. Drabble, in celebration of BuckyNat week!)


**AN: **My first prompt for BuckyNat Week! :D

From stars-inthe-sky via Tumblr: "To hell with this, I'm gonna live!"

* * *

We Don't Know When to Quit

"Romanov, extraction's waiting for you outside. Get him out of there!"

"Copy that," Natasha grunted, slamming her heel into an AIM soldier's solar plexus. A follow-up roundhouse kick to his helmet took him out for good, and she waited motionlessly amidst the smattering of AIM bodies to confirm that the danger had been taken care of. Once satisfied, she ran back to end of the hallway where James was slumped, still conscious (just), and set about following Hill's order.

James barely even winced as she hauled him to his feet, his metal arm cold and heavy around her shoulders. Considering the gaping hole in his side Natasha took this as cause for alarm and shook him a little. "Hey – medical team's waiting for you outside. Think you can stay with me until they stick a needle in you?" She thought that might at least elicit a wan smile or an amused huff, but all he did was nod heavily, eyes half-closed and unfocused. That was when she began to worry. "Then let's go."

As she helped him down the bright laboratory corridors, she tried to split her attention evenly between making sure he was still conscious and ensuring the way forward was clear – but with James' blood hot and wet against her side and his breathing faint and rapid in her ear this was proving easier said than done. Natasha hated that she had to put him through more pain and discomfort after everything he'd suffered before the Avengers swooped in to rescue him, but if it meant James would have a greater chance of surviving this ordeal she'd drag him through it by his cowl. Once again depositing him inside a doorway so she could take on more AIM footmen, she quickly prayed it wouldn't come to that.

"James?" Coming back to him she cupped his pale face in her hands, watching anxiously as his eyelids fluttered. "We're nearly out now, just a few more metres to go. Last push," she encouraged, tucking herself under his arm, "then you can relax. Okay?" His head lolled as they stood. "James, vy ponimayete? Talk to me!" He managed to wordlessly confirm that he understood, and she wasted no time in moving them along. "If you die on me now, you idiot, then Bog v pomoshch' vashu dushu, I will make you regret it."

The volley of bullets that greeted them as they rounded the final corner caught Natasha off-guard; her first instinct was to protect James, and that meant drawing fire away from him – so, after dropping him to the ground as carefully as she could, that was exactly what she did. Where this sudden group of AIM soldiers had come from she had no idea, but as she flipped and ducked between them, saving her energy by making them take each other out through friendly fire, she could only be grateful that her plan was working, and James wasn't in their line of –

Natasha cried out in surprise as a sharp pain shot through her upper arm, upsetting her balance and making her land awkwardly from the flip she'd been executing. She looked up at the final yellow-clad figure, his gun pointing at her chest, and her muscles tensed despite the pain as she decided on her course of action – but she was surprised again when her assailant was killed before she could even act. Looking over the fallen body, her heart constricted at the sight of James propping himself up on his left arm, the gun in his right hand shaking slightly with the effort of keeping it level, eyes focused on her. "To hell with this," he growled from between clenched teeth. "I'm gonna live… and so are you."

Forcing herself up, Natasha staggered over to where he lay, mildly dizzy from the blood lost through the wound in her arm. Dropping to kneel beside him, she pressed her forehead to his, ignoring his skin's cool, clammy feel as she grinned in overwhelming relief. "Thank you."

* * *

**AN: **If you'd also like to leave a prompt for BuckyNat Week, check out the Prompt Meme on AO3, send me a PM, or head over to Tumblr to see who's involved. :-) #buckynat week


End file.
